Each weekday on this blog you will find an episode of a western short story featuring Rance Dehner, a detective who operates in the old West. When the story concludes, it will be archived for those readers who prefer to read a story from start to finish.

Friday, May 25, 2012

With Rance on his side,
the deputy had gained new confidence. Still, he spoke carefully and with
respect to his boss. “You’re right that the trail will be real hard to follow,
boss. Let’s give my notion a chance.”

Tal shrugged his shoulders. “Okay. We’ll ride out to the Kimball place.”

As they mounted, Dehner mused that he had worked with Sheriff Tal Streeter only
once before and then very briefly. Streeter was short tempered and didn’t like
to admit he was wrong. But the sheriff’s temper usually cooled quickly. Rance
hoped that Tal would eventually apologize to this deputy for yelling at him for
no reason.

But the two men would have to work that out later. Right now, there was a life
to save.

Episode Seven

***

The sun had set as the three men
approached a tall, wide knoll. “I think we should leave the horses here,” Curt
said. “We can hoof it up to the top of the knoll. From there we got a good view
of the Kimball ranch. What there is of it.”

The three men quickly dismounted and
tied up at a grove of trees. Rance removed field glasses from his saddle bags
and the threesome moved quietly up the knoll. At the top they lay on the ground
and studied the scene below. There was a small house sided by a coral. The
house faced a barn which, like the rest of the ranch, appeared modest but well
cared for.

“There are a lot of little ranches
like this ‘round here,” Tal whispered to Dehner. The sheriff was situated
between his deputy and the detective. “They sell cattle to the larger outfits.
I think the Kimballs sold their herd a few weeks ago. Ain’t started a new one
yet, though I reckon there could be some calves around somewhere.”

“I’m just hoping the Kimballs are
still alive,” Dehner focused the glasses on the house below. A kerosene yellow
shone from the front window; it appeared to be struggling for survival against
a dark night bereft of stars or a moon.

Two men stepped out of the house,
one of them was carrying a lantern. They untied the horses from the hitch rail
and began to lead them into the barn. Dehner watched them closely.

“Curt called it right,” Dehner
whispered. “Those jaspers have the look of hired guns.”

“Should we rush them now?” Curt
Weldon asked. “This might be a good time, while two of them are in the barn
seein’ after the horses.”

Tal shook his head. “I’m just a
small town sheriff. Ain’t had much experience with kidnappin’ situations. But
we need to learn the lay of the land here. How many outlaws we’re dealing with,
and where the girl is.”

Anger again came into Streeter’s
voice but he still spoke in a whisper. “Yes, she is in the house, but where?
Our first job is to get her back safe. If we rush the place, one of those owlhoots
could have a gun to her head in no time.”

Dehner nodded, “What do you have in
mind, Tal?”

“I’ve visited this ranch many times.
Bert and Patricia are friends of mine.” The sheriff paused for a moment. His
face went gray. “Or they were. Anyhow, I’m going to move around back. The way I
see it, these thugs plan on askin’ for a ransom. If they get the money, they’ll
free the girl. That means they have to take precautions.”

“What kind of precautions?” Weldon
asked.

“The money will probably be wired
from Dallas.” Tal continued to study the ranch below him as he spoke. “That
means they need to hold Carrie Whiting captive for a few days. You can bet they
don’t want her to see or even hear them much. They don’t want her to be able to
identify them.”

Dehner got the point. “They will
keep the woman locked up in a room.”

“Exactly,” Streeter replied. “And
the Kimballs have large windows in every room of their house. I’m bettin’ that
one of those windows is boarded up. That’s where the girl is bein’ held. I’m
sneakin’ ‘round back and findin’ out where that room is. You men stay here. If
you hear shots, you’ll know I’ve been spotted.”

“Good luck,” Dehner said as the
sheriff quietly got up and made his way down to the ranch.

The lawman moved stealthily and
quietly. He seemed to be swallowed by the darkness of the night. Dehner watched
Streeter through his field glasses, but not for long.

“Lost
him,” Rance whispered as he put the glasses down. “But I think he is almost at
the back of the house.”

More
time passed; the detective didn’t even try to guess at how much. The tense
circumstances made an accurate assessment impossible.

Two
shots sounded from the direction of the house. “The sheriff’s in trouble!” Curt
yelled. He sprang to his feet and began
to run down the knoll before Dehner could stop him. Weldon’s brashness may have
put both the sheriff and Carrie Whiting in even worse danger.

The Posse

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Bio

As a kid, I idolized Hopalong Cassidy, which was the most intelligent choice I made during my first thirty years. Much of my professional life has been spent as a literary agent, but I also wrote westerns to prove I didn’t always have to live off the work of other people.
I can now devote myself full time to writing in a genre I love. I’m being a straight shooter when I say your opinion is important to me. When you have a moment, let me know what you think about Wild West Detective. Alas, the western genre has been riding over some tough territory for several decades. I hope this site can bring new folks into the corral and give them a taste of the fun that the western has given me.
jamesclay20@gmail.com